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I should just saythanks, but the one word won’t come out. I’m fighting any indication he’s a decent guy for selfish reasons. He can’t be a sex godandconsiderate, or I’ll have a much harder time forgetting him.
He shrugs. “I’ve heard crazy shit happens to people who aren’t six foot hockey players.”
“Six three,” I say.
His grin makes me wish I hadn’t mentioned his correction earlier. He’s not the only one who paid close attention during our conversation, I guess.
I turn and hurry toward the door.
Not because I’m in a rush to walk away.
Because I’m scared I might do something really stupid—like invite him inside—if I stay.
CHAPTER TEN
RYLAN
Chloe is practically vibrating with excitement as we walk into the lobby of the campus rink. It smells the same as I remember—the chilled air carrying the scent of sweat and steel and buttered popcorn from the concession stand. I inhale deeply, feeling like a little kid again.
I told my roommates this morning that my dad coaches the hockey team. Chloe gave me the perfect opening at breakfast, asking if I was going to this afternoon’s game. I told her I was—to support my dad, who’s the head coach.
A revelation followed by a barrage of questions, most of which I didn’t know the answers to.
Does my dad have a favorite player?I don’t know.
Does my dad give pre-game speeches like in inspirational sports movies?I don’t know.
Does my dad think they’ll win the championship?I don’t know.
From the moment Malia parked her sedan in the crowded lot we had to circle twice to find a spot in, I realized this game will be very different from the last Holt hockey game I attended. It’samplified by every step we take closer to the ice, the crowds of people milling about a sea of unfamiliar faces. It reminds me of last night, in some ways. Except the faces aren’t just students. There are plenty of families here as well.
Once we’re through the lobby and approaching the bleachers that surround the ice, I allow myself to look around more.
There are only a few sections of wood bench visible, most of the stands already packed with enthused spectators. We pass a few girls being herded away from the boards by a campus security guard. His kind but firm “You can’t stand here” carries over the din of excited voices echoing through the massive space.
I glance up into the rafters, decorated by a solitary, faded banner from Holt’s last championship win. I can’t read the year from this angle, but I know it’s ancient, predating my dad’s tenure by at least a decade.
By most measures, Holt is overdue for a season like this. But sports are unpredictable, unlike math.
I like searching for the right answer.
In sports, you don’t know what the outcome will be, and there’s never a “right” one.
“Are all the games like this?” I ask Chloe as we sit down, crammed between a group of guys wearing Holt Soccer sweatshirts and two girls with poster-sized signs.
“All the ones I’ve been to,” she replies, pulling her phone out and typing something. “Dakota is here. But she and Mason are sitting with his friends.”
“Bummer,” Malia says, the sarcastic tone audible over the commotion around us.
I’ve only met Dakota once, despite sharing a bathroom with her, and she seemed perfectly nice. But I’ve gotten the sense her boyfriend is not super popular with my other roommates, which Chloe confirms when she glances at me.
“Mason can be a little…unpleasant,” she tells me. “Dakota knows we’re not crazy about him. But he seems to make her happy, so…” She shrugs a shoulder. “What are you gonna do?”
I nod. If I’d had any real friends in Boston who weren’t also his, I’m sure they would have said the same thing about Walker. Hindsight makes spotting people’s shortcomings much easier.
The loudspeaker crackles to life, the announcer welcoming everyone to the game and then running through the emergency exit locations. Probably because we’re over the building’s capacity. Students have started sitting on the stairs now that the bleachers are filled, and more people are still streaming in from the lobby. To watch from where, I’m not sure.
Once the loudspeaker cuts out, pop music starts to play.
